


There Is Truth in Not Forgetting

by ObliObla



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Family, Fluff, Gen, Greek Mythology References, Hell, Light Angst, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) Devil Reveal, Post-Season/Series 03, Star Trek References, Star Wars References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 16:53:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18319406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObliObla/pseuds/ObliObla
Summary: Ella has seen the truth and Lucifer fears he may lose another friend.“You’re the Devil,” she began bluntly.“I’m the Devil,” he echoed.





	There Is Truth in Not Forgetting

**Author's Note:**

> For Lucifer Bingo prompt: cross
> 
> Thanks so much to my wonderful betas [emynii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emynii/pseuds/emynii) and [puerile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/puerile/pseuds/puerile)

Ella’s apartment was even smaller than Lucifer had expected it to be.

There was something almost violently welcoming about the periodic table refrigerator magnets, the plushy porgs being used as throw pillows, the copy of Hamlet in Klingon sitting on the coffee table… Even the unornamented cross that hung on the wall wasn’t half as threatening and austere as it ought to have been.

She made him tea—English breakfast—though she must have known now that the accent was nothing but affectation. That _all_ of it was—

“You’re the Devil,” she began bluntly. Her mug was chipped at the brim and decorated with an artist’s depiction of a caffeine molecule. She pulled her legs up under her onto her papasan chair.

“I’m the Devil,” he echoed. He stared at his drink, still swirling a little from the sugar stirred into it. He wished there were alcohol in it, but his flask was riddled with bullets. His suit was tattered and burnt in places and he shifted awkwardly on the couch, hoping he wasn’t leaving soot marks.

“And you’re here because…?”

There was no accusation in her tone but he flinched anyway, setting his cup down to hide the shaking of his hands. “I’m reti—” The word got caught in his throat. It wasn’t a lie but, under her strangely still and carefully non-judgmental gaze, it felt like a half-truth. He inhaled sharply. “I-I escaped, ran away. I was…” Why was it that he felt so compelled to explain, to pour out his soul to _this_ human, however scabbed and scarred a thing it was?

“Hey…” She stood up, walked toward him like it was nothing to approach a creature such as him, and wrapped him in her much smaller body as if she were shielding _him_ from the bullets that had rained down upon them. “It’s ok,” she whispered against his shirt collar. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want. I’m just glad you’re here with us now.”

And _this_ was why. Obviously this was why. He didn’t know what to do with her uncomplicated, freely offered affection, but he found himself clinging back with a desperation that frightened him.

She pulled away a little and settled next to him. “So, uh, is _this_ …” She gestured in a way that seemed to encompass his entire being. “This is why Decker’s being all… weird?”

He nodded, not even bothering to try to pretend he wasn’t in despair over the detective’s avoidance of him.

“Ah, man, that’s awful,” she said, taking his hand.

He stared at her fingers as they tightened around his. “How-how are you not afraid of me?”

She shrugged. “Easy. Didn’t I tell you the day we met that I thought the Devil got a bad rap?”

He stared at her in utter shock.

“Plus, I mean…” Her casualness vanished again. “You saved me. Those guys at the warehouse would’ve made Swiss cheese out of me if not for you.” She sighed. “I’m really sorry about Chloe, but I’m _sure_ she’ll come around.”

He scoffed. “You didn’t see what _she_ saw.”

“What, your big, shiny wings?” She shrugged again. “I hate to break it to you, Luce, but they’re really not that—”

“No,” he said bitterly, unable to keep the threat from his voice. “My scary, burnt _face_.” His control, always so close to fraying recently, shattered for a single, fatal moment, and he let his eyes blaze.

She blinked once and he thought, for an instant, that she was finally going to do the sensible thing and run. But of _course_ she couldn’t just be normal. No, not Ella Lopez, best friend of the angel of death because, instead of fear painting her face, there was only anger. She pushed away from him and stood, not to flee, but only to more effectively glare at him. “What the _hell_ , dude?” Her voice didn’t so much as stutter on the word and he found himself speechless. “I mean, I know you can be a grade A jerk sometimes, but… seriously? Are you _trying_ to scare me off?”

He gaped at her.

Her anger left her as quickly as it came and she slumped back onto the couch. “Oh, right,” she muttered to herself. “Of course you are.” She shook her head. “Have you even _tried_ to talk to her?”

“Yes.” He frowned. “She won’t… she won’t see me. And I-I don’t want to _push_. If I… If she…” He leaned back against the absurdly cushy upholstery and let his eyes fall closed. “I don’t think I could survive that,” he admitted quietly. They sat in silence for a long moment, but then he felt her fingertips on his cheek and his eyes startled open.

“I’m sorry,” she said with a solemnity that sat oddly on her face. “I know you and her…”

His head jerked in assent.

“So!” She clapped her hands, dour mood abruptly vanishing. “Have you seen the new Star Trek show?”

“What?”

She half-climbed onto him to retrieve the remote, then threw him a wide, toothy grin. “Right. Cool. So… we’re binging that now.”

“I… We’re… What?”

* * *

 

Six episodes in and Lucifer found himself strangely engrossed in the plot, though even the threat of a cheese puff thrown in his hair wasn’t enough to stop him from criticizing the aliens’ makeup. “So,” he mused idly, digging into his Lo Mein. “What’s this new chap’s deal?”

“You’ll just have to watch,” Ella said for the dozenth time—he’d counted. She laughed, then paused the show, heading back to her kitchen to grab them another couple of beers.

He was frowning at the episode title on the screen when she came back.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said, taking the bottle. “It’s just… _Lethe_.”

“Does…?” She turned more fully toward him, setting her sesame chicken aside. “Is that real?”

He hummed. “It’s not a river, but there is… _something_ that makes souls forget.”

“Forget who they are?”

“No,” he muttered absently. “Happiness, joy, love.” He narrowed his eyes, thinking. “Hope.”

Her eyebrows raised in concern.

“Don’t fret, my dear. You won’t end up there.”

Her gaze grew distant. “You don’t know everything I’ve done,” she said quietly.

“You won’t end up there,” he repeated firmly. “I’ll never allow it.”

“Shit, dude.” Her eyes went wide.

“My apologies, Miss L… Ella. I-I didn’t intend to frighten you.”

“You’d really do that for me?” she asked.

“Of course I would. I don’t lie.”

“Right, right. No, of course you don’t. Everything you’ve ever said was actually, _literally_ —”

“Shall we keep watching,” he said quickly before she could fall any further down the rabbit hole.

She flashed him a grateful smile and unpaused the tv before flopping against him.

He froze. “What are you doing, Miss Lopez?”

She snuggled up against his side. “This is called cuddling and you, mister, are going to deal with it.”

“Ooh.” He tried a leer, though his heart wasn’t in it.

She picked up one of her stuffed porgs and shoved it in his face. “Don’t be gross.”

He sputtered, tossed the plushy across the room and glared at her.

She laughed.

He reached over, maintaining eye contact, and pulled a cheeseball from the bag on the table.

Her eyes widened again. “You wouldn’t.”

He grinned, crushed the puff in his fingers and, slowly, dusted her head with orange powder.

“You know this means war?”

And it had been such a very long time since play fights and roughhousing, so long the weight of years threatened to overcome him, but Ella was swift and small and fought even dirtier than Azrael had, almost as dirty as Lucifer himself did. Eventually, both panting lightly, they slumped back onto the couch, giggling. He caught sight of the cross again and sighed, tipping his head back

She followed his gaze and froze. “Is…? Should I…?”

“I don’t begrudge you your faith,” he said eventually. “Sometimes even I wish…” He sighed again.

“Hey, you know it… it’s gonna be ok.”

He turned his head away. He had heard that lie far too many times.

“But…”

He looked back at her, at the strange expression on her face that wasn’t quite pity.

She laid her hand on his arm. “It’s also ok that it’s not ok right _now_ , you know?”

It was becoming a habit, her rendering him speechless.

“And honestly? I’m probably gonna freak out later. But no matter what happens I’m here for you. You know that right?”

His eyes burned, but he knew they remained dark. “I… How can you…?”

She smiled, then, though not with her usual exuberance, rather something softer, quieter. “Well, we’re family, right?” She looked back at the cross on the wall and shook her head, turning back to him, laying her head against his shoulder.

“You don’t abandon your family.”


End file.
